


through fire and flame, fate will have its way

by glowsticksarevalid



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, Gen, Guys it's all angst there is literally NO comfort to be found, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Instability, References to the Dream SMP war, Seer!Wilbur, This was written pre-Festival sooo, Unnecessary foreshadowing, haha Manburg go boom, idk how to tag guys is it obvious yet, no beta we die like the people of manburg, someone please yell at me if i should add something i'm very stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27276925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowsticksarevalid/pseuds/glowsticksarevalid
Summary: In his dreams, he’d always seen a flag. Had been for years.And-- then the flag was taken down. Taken down alongside everything he'd created.His dreams were only full of fire since then.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	through fire and flame, fate will have its way

In his dreams, he’d always seen a flag. Had been for years.

The flag of gold, black, blue, white and red waving high above the walls of a nation. A symbol of a new land and its freedom. A symbol of everything the people of the nation fought to create. Everything they set out to protect.

Sometimes the walls were peaceful. A sunny day, wind blowing a gentle breeze. Gentle chatter and laughter in the air as the people who lived within the black and gold walls bantered and played. A flower field carefully tended to, bees buzzing to and fro as friends chased each other. A lakeside father-son bonding moment, pebbles disturbing an otherwise still pool. A man with a weighted choice staring peacefully at the drifting clouds, pushing away the thought of an uncertain future.

Sometimes there was destruction. Loud, echoing explosions and choked off screams hidden under layers of the metallic sounds of swords clashing and fire crackling as it ate its way through the greens of trees and fields. Commands of leaders lost under the cacophony and chaos as the grass ran red with the blood of both sides, littered with forgotten weapons and shattered glass. Discord and fear ran rampant between the grips of confidence and anger, blurring the line of the justification of bloodshed.

Sometimes there was hopelessness. The dark, despondent feeling of nothing that settled in your bones. The dread that persisted in the haunted look in a person’s eyes. The earth disturbed and littered with holes from explosives and charred by fires that raged. The painful sting of a betrayal that left you to question loyalties and threaten everything you stand on. The kind of hopelessness that leads you to wonder if surrendering would be the best idea.

Sometimes there was hope. A refusal to give up and give in, defiant to the end. A brightness in the bleakness of a struggling nation. A light that didn’t give for anything, no matter how the darkness tried to smother it, time after time. Words of a commander, of a friend, who believed-- who _created_ \--who would see the sun shine on them, even if he had to force it with his own hands.

In between it all, the flag stayed tall. Untouched by the chaos.

The flag of L’manburg.

Wilbur had never been given an answer on why he dreamed of the future-- _sees_ the future. And he had never searched for one. It was just a simple fact. The sun is bright, grass is green, he can see the future. His “visions”, as many of the others had taken to calling them, had helped save L’manburg from one too many attacks that, had it not been discovered early, could have been the end of their new nation before it had truly begun. Had saved them from experiencing painful or stupid deaths. Had stopped events that, in the beginning, they’d been afraid spelled the end.

(But it hadn’t saved them from Eret’s betrayal in the Final Control Room. It hadn’t stopped them from nearly losing Tommy because of the stupid duel. Hadn’t prepared them for the days of desperation and fear that followed each and every loss.)

In the end, L’manburg had settled itself as a nation. Signed in a peace treaty, L’manburg was recognised and given independence from the Dream SMP lands. Wilbur had taken charge as the de facto leader of the new nation, Tommy at his side as his right hand and vice president. Since then, the visions had lessened. Become fewer, less intense. Instead of about the days of the war or recovery, it became simple mundane things. Day to day activities and very little warnings of something worse yet to come.

But de facto hadn’t been enough. Yes, Wilbur had led the revolution against Dream. Yes, he had been the obvious choice as president. But that was because he was the only choice. Tommy and Tubbo were sixteen, and Fundy was the only other capable of taking the role. But L’manburg had grown since the war ended--new people moved in and made homes for themselves. The nation was far from what it had been; Wilbur had his chance to become the president of L’manburg the right way.

The election was called, and ended in three: Pog2020, Wilbur and his running mate Tommy; Swag2020, with Quackity and his running mate George; and Coconut2020, with Fundy and Niki as his running mate.

But then Schlatt joined.

The vision had come barely a day before the man had arrived, leaving no time for Wilbur to prepare himself for the horned man’s reappearance in his life. No time to prepare for his declaration as a fourth and final party in the election, Schlatt2020.

Since then, the visions began to become darker again.

A loud declaration. One that was garbled and meaningless in the dream but one that Wilbur knew was nothing he’d be able to predict no matter what, if not for the confusion, horror, surprise and fear that ran through his veins every time he heard the scrambled words.

A ravine-- _two?_ \--decorated to be homely, despite the cold that set into his bones every time he opened his eyes to the stone walls. A location forced to be a home that, somewhere inside, Wilbur knew he would come to despise, regardless of its necessity.

A podium and a tower. Standing on the parapet of the tower Wilbur knew watched over L’manburg, Tommy at his side with a bow in hand, aim trained at the head of a man sitting on a throne addressing the people of L’manburg. Words that sent a sense of cold horror down his spine and a void opening in his stomach being spoken.

A certainty. A cold kind of fury and hate that clung to him, smothering the fear of something Wilbur couldn’t place. The knowledge and absolute certainty that the next decision he was going to make was for the best. The end of a mistake.

A flaming clearing. Dotted with holes from explosions and riddled with the metallic smell of blood and the suffocating smoke. _L’manburg_. And standing in the middle of the destruction was the horned man with a cruel smile and a mocking laugh.

It was a horrific knowledge to be cursed with, Wilbur knew, that his nation was going to fall at the hands of the one he once called a friend. That, one day, L’manburg was going to go up in flames with a predetermined twist of fate. Maybe not some day soon, but one day. One day L’manburg, the very thing Wilbur sacrificed almost everything for, was going to fall, and he was stuck with the knowledge.

(He never told Tommy. It wasn’t the teen’s job to be burdened by the knowledge that the land he nearly died for was going to be destroyed anyway. He’d been through enough. They all had. This was Wilbur’s burden to carry alone.)

The election came and went.

And-- then the flag was taken down.

The flag that symbolizes a nation that fought a war against a ruler that tried to smother them under a greater power. The flag that stood tall no matter how many times the people who fought in its name fell. The flag that served as a reminder of why they left the SMP--of why they fought for their nation’s independence. The flag that had always waved above L’manburg’s walls, through storm and sun.

_The flag was taken down_. Burned by one of the few who fought for it--by Wilbur’s own son. Replaced by a cruel, dark mimicry of blacks, purples and yellows. A flag made in honour of the man who tore down the walls made to protect L’manburg, of the man who was one day going to demolish the land he took from right under Wilbur’s nose. A flag made in honour of the one who exiled Wilbur and Tommy from the very nation they gave everything to protect.

And as they came across the ravines they’d soon learn to call a home, it wasn’t only the visions that left him with the bone-deep feeling of cold dread. The stone walls that, no matter how much they decorated them, would always be a reminder of what they’d lost and how little they had left other than the beginnings of a revolution and a spark of hope.

A hope that didn’t last long. 

A festival. The Manburg Festival, a celebration of the democracy that put Schlatt in his position of power. (A celebration of the election _Wilbur_ called that put Schlatt in power. A celebration of Wilbur allowing coalition governments that allowed Schlatt to gain the higher vote. A celebration of Wilbur’s own mistake in his need to consolidate his leadership.)

An idea that...wasn’t anything cruel. It was a nice idea, actually. Kind, almost. Like he did want the best for _Manburg_ . (Not L’manburg. Schlatt never wanted L’manburg.) An idea that didn’t line up at all with the man that Wilbur had come to know as his (former) friend. Schlatt wasn’t _kind_ . He’d thrown Wilbur and Tommy from their own nation without an inch of hesitation, stood by as the L’manburg flag was taken down and replaced, abused his power over Niki, and was a threat against the peace treaty between L’manburg and the Dream SMP. Schlatt wasn’t the _good guy_.

But how couldn’t he be?

A democratically elected leader that the people didn’t argue against. The one who got more votes over even Coconut2020. He’d kicked out the two responsible for helping spark the original war against the Dream SMP. And here they were, once again trying to start a revolution against yet another person of power. Only this time they didn’t have a nation or friends at their back.

Because there was nobody at their back, was there? Maybe that’s the threat the visions kept telling him about. The only other people who ever showed up in clarity were Tommy and Schlatt--his only ally and his enemy. Pogtopia was alone. It’s always been Wilbur and Tommy against the world. Tubbo would turn against them the minute they were losing. Techno had never been on their side. Fundy had chosen his loyalties the moment he’d burned that flag. Niki was only playing victim. Eret made it clear where they stood during the war. Dream had only sided with Pogtopia to take advantage of taking Schlatt out of power and replacing him with the leader he never saw as a threat.

Pogtopia was alone in this battle. Wilbur and Tommy were alone in this battle.

A battle they’d fucking lost since before it even began. One they weren’t ever supposed to win no matter what they did. Schlatt was always going to be the fucking winner. Schlatt was always going to be the downfall of L’manburg, standing in the middle of the flames with a wide smile and his mocking laughter as L’manburg fell.

_Wilbur wouldn’t give him the fucking chance._

They gave everything for L’manburg. To see it rise from the smallest scraps of defiance against a ruler into a nation with independence and recognition. Tommy nearly gave his life and sacrificed his discs to see the war ended. All for _nothing_ ? All for L’manburg to be taken from right under them by the man who Wilbur once called his friend and for it to be broken down to form a new nation using a mockery of its name. All for their brothers in arms--for their _family_ \--to choose their sides against L’manburg. All for Wilbur to lose it all anyway. To lose L’manburg to _Manburg_.

Schlatt was going to be-- _is_ the downfall of L’manburg. He saw L’manburg go down piece by piece and will be the one to see what’s left of it go in flames. He watched with that _infuriating_ smile as L’manburg crumbled from the inside out. Had the audacity to build over the remains and call it Manburg, taking Tubbo, Fundy-- _everyone_ with it. Took everything that made L’manburg and let it turn to rubble. Watched from his high horse as every sacrifice was rendered useless as the walls were taken down and the flag burned.

But if L’manburg can fall, so can Manburg.

L’manburg fought for their independence. L’manburg fought a war. L’manburg was protected tirelessly.

Manburg has... _none of that_. Manburg was wall-less. Manburg didn’t fight for its next day.

In fact, the only common factor is that Dream is an enemy.

And Dream nearly decimated L’manburg. But he fell short against the small group of L’manburgians who fought the uphill battle for their nation. But Manburg had no people fighting that uphill battle, because as far as they knew there _was_ no battle.

Dream failed to end L’manburg.

_Wilbur wouldn’t make the same mistake_.

Fair’s fair, is it not? Schlatt is going to take L’manburg from him no matter what he does. ( _fire explosions nothing remains nothing remains it’s all gone it’s all fucking gone the cruel smile friends family it’s all gone_ ) It’s only fair Manburg goes down too. They’ll both be left with nothing. They’ll both have their way. Everyone will have their way. L’manburg will be gone. Manburg will be gone. The Dream SMP has no competition. Everything will have been for naught and they’ll all be left to live with the sacrifices made for absolutely fucking _nothing_.

_Nothing_.

By _fucking God_ is Wilbur sick of being the only one left with _nothing_.

And if he’s going down, then he’ll take Schlatt down with him kicking and screaming.

Who cares if Tommy doesn’t agree? L’manburg is gone. Maybe not now, not completely, but it will be. L’manburg is destined to be eradicated regardless of what either of them did to stop it. There’s no point salvaging what’s meant to be left broken. Tommy might not see that now. But he will. Tommy will see, when Manburg is broken to rubble and ash just like L’manburg, that there is no point in building what will only break. 

He’ll come around. Wilbur was certain of it. It might take time, but Wilbur was willing to wait. Tommy always did what was right in the end, though he took his time finding his own way. Tommy would never abandon him. His right hand man, his running mate, his friend, his ally, _his little brother_. They always ended up on the same side one way or another. And maybe telling Tommy about the destruction of L’manburg would sway him. Maybe, just maybe, telling the teen that Schlatt was going to be the destruction of their nation no matter what would be all he needed to convince him. But… Tommy didn’t have to live with that. He shouldn’t have to live with that future on his shoulders. A constant reminder that, even if they should win, they still lose.

Tommy didn’t need to live with the knowledge. Didn’t need to know that his hopes are fruitless. That he’s hoping for an empty future. This is Wilbur’s burden alone. It always has been. The visions were Wilbur’s responsibility and only his, no matter how many times Tommy pestered him about them. Tommy didn’t have to live knowing what the remains of his home look like every day, engraved into the back of his eyelids.

Tommy would come around. Maybe he won’t help directly. Maybe he doesn’t think it’s right. Maybe-- maybe he’s right.

But Wilbur had never been more certain of anything in his life.

By the day of the festival, Manburg was going to explode and take as many lives with it.

By the day of the festival, there will be _nothing_ left for Schlatt to claim as his own.

The dreams came violently the days before it happened. Explosions left and right with blood-curdling screams, and Wilbur could’ve almost sworn he was back in the war for L’manburg’s independence. A sky orange and gray as the fire licked away at the greenery and the booths. Earth running red with the blood of those caught too close. The mocking smile and laugh was the same as it always was, but-- now there was a bow in the man’s hand, and a wild mix of horror and confusion in his eyes. And Wilbur was kneeled against the ground, an unfamiliar (and yet hauntingly familiar, like he’d been in the exact situation) weight in his arms cradled against his chest. Cold horror and blazing fury entangled in his chest, a familiar feeling and yet not one he’s ever felt in any of the visions of this day.

That was never there before. Something changed, Wilbur knew. Something changed and he doesn't know what. The dream always ends before he can recognise what or who he's holding. His only hints are the emotions in his chest and the look on his ex-friend's face.

But it didn't matter. The festival was going up in the flames just as Manburg will. Even if Wilbur couldn't find Tommy on the day no matter how hard he searched ( _Tommy wouldn't betray him Tommy wouldn't betray him Tommy wouldn't betray him_ ) it didn't matter. Nothing mattered more than giving Schlatt a taste of a medicine he didn't know he had yet. Nothing mattered more than ripping Manburg away with fire, the same way L'manburg is going to be ripped away from him.

Nothing mattered more than now.

The festival, once quietened down for Tubbo's speech, was in chaos. Explosions left and right as screams ripped through the air, smoke climbing into the sky as fires caught. Choked off shouts smothered by a cacophony of shouting and explosions and stone collapsing. People ran back and forth, many making a run for it instead. Nameless faces with blood smeared and large wounds on the ground. Few stayed to help those still standing, most of which being people Wilbur knew the names of. If they saw Wilbur standing in the middle of the wreckage, would they stop and look? Would they wonder if he was just as lost as the rest of them? Would they wonder if he was caught in the crossfire? Would they wonder if he was the one who set it off? Would they even know it was him?

_Did he even know if this was him?_

But did that even matter?

Manburg was in disarray.

Manburg was _destroyed_.

And yet the echoing sound of mocking laughter rose above the noise of the fire and the screams. A slow, almost sarcastic clap, drifting slowly closer as Schlatt approached. An easy smirk on the horned man's face as he stalked forward. Only the tense look in his shoulders told Wilbur the one thing he needed.

Schlatt was never an open book, never really had been. But he wasn't impossible to read. And, if anything right now, Schlatt was _afraid._

And _good_ , spat the venomous voice in the back of Wilbur’s head. _He should be._

Manburg was going down in flames. Every inch of what Schlatt worked to take was gone in one fell swoop. _Manburg_ will be _gone_. Just as it always should have.

And yet Wilbur couldn't help but feel his heart drop at the familiarity.

_Dotted with holes from explosions and riddled with the metallic smell of blood and the suffocating smoke._ L’manburg _. And standing in the middle of the destruction was the horned man with a cruel smile and a mocking laugh--_

_but-- now there was a bow in the man’s hand--_

He had no time.

There _was_ no time.

One moment, everything was going to plan.

The next, his heart plummeted. There was an arrow aimed for his chest. Everything was on fire. Manburg was on fire.

_L'manburg--_

It happened in only a few seconds.

The sound of an ender pearl shattering in front of him. A muffled shout of pain and distress, and suddenly Wilbur was mindlessly scrambling to hold onto the body collapsing against him. Dropping slowly to his knees, cradling the person closer as the cold feeling of shock crept in and threatened to choke him.

It wasn't like last time.

Back then, they knew the price. They knew what was going to happen. It was inevitable. That was how the rules _worked_.

That didn't mean holding Tommy close with an arrow through his chest was any easier than before.

Wilbur didn't know if Tommy spoke. All he knew was that he was mindlessly speaking words that didn't make it to his own ears, running a shaking hand through the blond boy's hair and clutching him for dear life. And Wilbur wished he was imagining the way Tommy's grip on his coat weakened. Wished he was imagining the slowly growing limpness. Wished that, for once, Tommy's stubbornness would come back for a second wind. That the teen would perk back up, laughing about how Wilbur fell for it, Tubbo peeking out from behind the wreckage to laugh with him.

Wilbur wished he could forget the weak smile Tommy gave him before his eyes closed. Wished that there was still a fluttering heartbeat like the last time when he pressed fingers to the young boy's pulse point. Wished the cold feeling of dread and horror was made up.

But as he raised his eyes to stare at his friend, bow still in hand and looking equal parts confused and horrified, Wilbur knew wishes were pointless.

He didn't think as he did it. The cold horror and blazing fury did nothing to combat the raw murderous rage in his chest as he gently laid Tommy's body (his _dead_ body) down and stood, grabbing a loosened end of a fence as he stalked up to Schlatt. And, for one more time in his life, Wilbur relished in the fear he saw.

What happened next was all a blur.

He didn't know how much time had passed since. An hour? Three? Ten? A day? It didn't matter.

All he knew is that when he came back to his wits, the fence in his hand was coated in blood alongside the majority of his clothes. (He didn't know whose it was at this point. A stranger's? Tommy's? Schlatt's?) He'd collapsed to Tommy's side, gently cradling the body close, ignoring the way the skin was cold to the touch.

The fires were put out.

Nobody had come back to check the damage.

Everything was gone.

Just like he wanted.

...Right?

This was what he wanted.

Manburg is gone. Manburg is burnt to a crisp. Exploded and charred and bloody.

Just...like L'manburg.

L'manburg is gone. Burned alongside Manburg. Bloodstained and burned and broken.

Tommy is dead.

Schlatt is…

(Wilbur risked a look at his hands, stained red with blood he didn't remember being there. If he tried, Wilbur could almost remember screaming.)

...dead.

The golden flames had turned everything into blackened ash and smoke. The lake is destroyed, almost lifeless with its murky water. The sky was clouded over, not an inch of a white cloud in sight through the smoke still clearing. Everything was stained in red, blood smearing the ground and whatever is left of the booths.

Wilbur got what he wanted.

Manburg is gone. For good.

And...so is L'manburg.

The numbness in his chest was cold. Was he crying? Wilbur didn't know. Everything was an odd kind of numb.

Schlatt is dead. Tommy is dead. Many innocent people are dead. Manburg was destroyed, and took with it L'manburg. All in one go.

It was with a shocking clarity that it came through

It was never Schlatt that was destined to destroy L'manburg. It was never supposed to be him. Because Manburg was built on L'manburg.

No, it was never Schlatt.

It was Wilbur.

It was _always_ going to be Wilbur.

L'manburg was always going to be destroyed at the hand of its creator.

His own nation that he fought to protect was always going to be destroyed by him.

Wilbur was the start of L'manburg. And now, he was the end.

**Author's Note:**

> hahAAAAAAAAA first ao3 posting go brrrrrrrrrrrr. this was also a prompt from someone that i was just like "YO IMMA WRITE THAT" and a week later i did and i have conflicting feelings of if i regret it or not
> 
> imma be honest like. idk what im doing guys. i have 0 idea what im doing i'm literally just some poor tumblr user who is now on ao3. what the fuck is tagging and how does it work.
> 
> also, my dear friend Glass, I literally dare you to try turn this around and put Comfort into it. This is a Challenge. I know it could be done but I just. I just wanna see. Tommy has been McKilled, Schlatt has been killed, Manburg just went boom, and Wilbur's having a breakdown. Is Tubbo dead? Is Techno? Is Big Q? I have no idea, but fate is in your hands now :)
> 
> Now I must go scream into the void out of anxiety because oh my god nobody told me posting was thIS STRESSFUL OH GOD


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